


not enough; too much

by darlingprince



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Projecting onto Aziraphale (Good Omens), Author Projecting onto Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Eating Disorders, Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Hastur Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecure Aziraphale (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Other, Self-Harm, Wings, feather pulling??, vague language as to not be TOO triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingprince/pseuds/darlingprince
Summary: Aziraphale isn't a Good Angel. Not enough like an Angel, too much like a human.Crowley isn't a good person. Too much like a Demon, not enough like a human.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. Genesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello uh. this was actually supposed to be one chapter but uh. to be quite honest i have some bad writer's block so idk if i'd ever be able to get this out if i were to just make this a one shot.
> 
> ok. so in this aziraphale has an eating disorder and crowley self harms. i try to make nothing too explicit- for mine and the reader's sake.
> 
> i projected REALLY hard onto both of them- i've suffered with an eating disorder and while i have self-harmed some, i feel like i would rather draw my knowledge from psychology and my experience with friends
> 
> [here](https://top-crowley-central.tumblr.com/post/614247216071229440/this-isnt-a-headcanon-more-like-something-ive) is the tumblr post that helped inspired this and developed the idea i had much further than it originally was.
> 
> aziraphale's insecurities are about who and how he is, i call them individuals insecurities, he's too human. he's supposed to be an angel but he has these all too human qualities. not enough angel, too much human. (not part of the post but it's also implied he's been/being raped by gabriel in the story.)
> 
> crowley's insecurities come from what he is and where he's from, not sure what to call them- base insecurities? origin insecurities?? anyways, it's that he's a DEMON. he's evil and demonic and dark and everything wrong- he isn't a good a person. too much demon, not enough human. (also not part of the post but pre-fall, hastur and crowley were friends in heaven but when they became demons, hastur became an extremely toxic friend.)

The Principality stood outside the home of Adam and Eve. They had just started their work in the field, and while Adam, Eve, and Cain all worked on their vast farm - it truly was a three person job, meanwhile, _Aclima [1]_ had gone to gather water and Abel had been left alone to shepherd.

"Oh, do you need some help?" Aziraphale spoke to him, and to that, the 13 year old shook his head.

"I can do this, I just gotta bring 'em to the new pen and then my mother will come over here to help me sheer 'em." He grabbed the staff and walked towards the sheep.

Aziraphale followed him out of concern and watched as the young boy gathered all of the sheep and began walking them to the new pen, trying his best to catch any stragglers. _Miraculously_ , it seemed there were very few stragglers- lucky him.

As he walked them all into the pen, he suddenly looked Aziraphale and reached down into his pocket.

"You want this?" He held out a fig. "Father and mother make sure me, Cain, and Aclima always have something to snack on us, like a fig or an apple. I'm not hungry right now, though, so do you want it? I didn't see you eat at breakfast this morning." 

"Oh, dear, I don't-" The boy seemed to persist and shoved the fig closer. "How about we half it?" Abel smiled at that. After making sure all the sheep were in the pen, he closed the gate and brought out a small dagger and cut the fig in half.

He handed one half over to Aziraphale. Aziraphale extended his thanks and walked with the boy over to the farm, where he would wait for his mother to be done farming her section.

"Say, dear, would you happen to know where I could get more of those figs?"

* * *

Where the problem had started didn't originate from the food, rather, it had originated from Aziraphale himself- or at least, that's what seemed to be the consensus of what Upstairs had thought about it.

He had been fairly lucky they hadn't found out about the Flaming Sword he had given to Adam and Eve, as it would of only cemented this idea about him they had developed- Aziraphale was indulgent.

Aziraphale had indulged himself to the beauty of the Garden that he had let a demon in, he was too indulgent in his gentleness to the humans that they were tempted to eat the Forbidden Fruit, and now-

Now he had indulged himself with the food produced by the humans and their offspring.

Aziraphale was not neglectful of his duties, he was a Good Angel- that's what they had told him to be. That's what he shall be.

* * *

One fateful evening, a young Cain kicked the ground in rage.

"'Ello?" Crawly spoke from where he was sat, on top a small hill.

"What?" He barked out. Crawly raised his eyebrows and looked at him.

"No need for the, uh, attitude there, bud. Just saying hello." He looked at the young human and the young human looked back, gasping and stepping back.

" _Demon!_ " Crawly raised his hands.

"Caught me." 

"What- what do you want, huh? To persuade to-to something wicked? I'll call for-for an Angel!" Cain balled up his fist.

"Just sittin' here." He was tempted to leave now, he really was- thing was, _he_ was the tempter, not the other way around. As such, Hell had told him to cause some trouble again- they wanted him to convince Cain into killing his parents.

"I'm not trying to start nothing." He defended himself. Cain looked at him and looked at the ground and back at him.

"Are you being honest? Cause I'm gonna say no to anything you tell me to do." Crawly nodded and the man sat down on hill side. "Do you wanna know why I was up here?" Crowley shrugged. _I already know, mate._ Cain groaned.

"Well, just...Abel, my brother- uh, we both gave a sacrifice. To God that is. I gave Her my ripest, healthiest, and filling fruits of the ground- that's my life's work, I'm a farmer. My brother, Abel, on the other hand, gave Her the youngest of his flock- don't get me wrong, it was good, but..." Cain stared at the ground and, in his anger from remembering the memory, threw a rock at a nearby tree.

"She liked Abel's better, cause it was fatter or something like that- and just, it's awful, I should be happy for him. Still, I'm filled with this...this...I can't describe it- why wasn't _I_ good enough? Why does Abel have what I wanted, what I've worked for- for longer than he ever did- I did everything She asked of us...and I still couldn't make it.

"Abel has always been- better, I could work harder but Abel has...has something about him, something that makes him likable that I've never had. Why can't _I_ just be _enough_?" Crawly stared at the seething and envious Cain. It's obvious that this has been laying underneath for awhile

"What do I do now?

"Well..." _Get back at your creators_ was on tip of his tongue, Cain was weak-willed now- he was vulnerable and it would be so, so easier to get him to do anything now. Crawly looked at the boy and spoke out.

"Why not settle this with your brother?"

* * *

By nature, something wicked should've been afoot- but that wasn't Crawly. Crawly was a trickster, not an evil do-er.

Crawly asked questions, he wanted answers- he chased and chased for them until he lost his footing and Fell. He was there, side by side with Lucifer, so he guessed he had earned some favoritism from Satan- but so did the Princes of Hell.

In fact, Crawly was almost the 8th Prince of Hell, and with that, there was almost an 8th Deadly Sin- Satan had wanted Crawly to be the Prince of Hell representing the Deadly Sin known as Curiosity.

As it seemed though, God had no plans of condemning curiosity to such an extent, so perhaps it could be said he was an honorary Prince of Hell.

So, they asked him to come up here and tempt, to inspire dangerous curiosity- they wanted him to be a Bad Demon. That's never what he had wanted to be.

* * *

The sun had been rising, and with Eve expecting and Adam at her side as well taking care of the young Azura, it left Cain and Abel, as well as their sisters, Aclima and Awan, to work in the fields. Aclima and Awan had left to go trade with the only other _family. [2]_

Cain, already in a slow pace, abruptly dropped his wooden hoe. He began to walk over to the pen where Abel was shepherding, and though Cain was a fairly large main, in both his width and _height [3]_ , he went unnoticed.

He heard a noise come from a sheep and looked down to see them hobble from where they tripped on...a fairly large stone.

Cain reached down and lifted it. He looked back at Abel, brought his hand back, and-

"Cain, broth-" Abel hit the ground. Cain dropped the stone and jumped back as he watched his brother's body momentarily jerked before finally coming to a stop. Cain stood still for moments before dropping to his knees.

"Abel, I know it might've been painful, but-" He gulped. "But mother doesn't even pass out during childbirth anymore, and I'm sure those sheep have bit you or stepped on your-your feet before. Abel? Abel? I'm no shepherd, Abel." A dry laugh came out.

"Abel, I can't do your job for the day. Come on, get up, see that sheep there isn't even half-way through their sheer..." Cain looked at the pile of sheered wool next to the sheep and saw it stained red.

Cain sprinted away, closing the gate and rushing back to the farm. He was barely able to shakily pick up his hoe before a booming voice made him drop it once more.

"Where is your brother Abel?"

* * *

"Damn, Crawly." Hastur spoke, looking out onto the land of Adam and Eve. "Tell me, where'd you think of it?"

"Hm?" Crawly's head perked up. Hastur backhanded his arm and laughed.

"Don't be fuckin' modest, convincing Cain to kill his brother instead of his parents. How'd you think of that one?" Hastur grinned.

"He killed, uh, he already killed him?" He laughed, no humor actually behind it but Hastur didn't know any better. "Well, I just..." His face nearly dropped, though that would've shown he was lying, so he kept a half-assed smile on.

"I told him to settle his quarrels with his brother."

* * *

"What in the Heavens did you _do_ , Aziraphale?" Gabriel growled as he gripped on Aziraphale's clothing, nearly ripping it. "Better yet, what _didn't_ you do?"

"Gabriel, I was with the girls-I had no idea-" Gabriel slammed Aziraphale onto the ground.

"That's what I get for trusting you of all Angels, huh? First you let a demon into the Garden of Eden, then you let them be tempted into doing the one thing they were told not to do, and now- now this?!"

"Gabriel-"

"I guess you and them aren't so different, huh? Can't do the _one_ fucking thing you're told to do? Huh?" He gripped Aziraphale's shoulder..

"I am going to decide what to do with you, until then, just _do your job_." Gabriel disappeared as quickly as he appeared and Aziraphale stood back up, rubbing his shoulder. _That is going to bruise_. He frowned and miracled himself outside Adam and Eve's home.

He peered in and saw the sobbing Eve, not surprisingly, next to the equally distraught Adam. Just as equally expected, in front of the side window, Aclima and Awan were sitting on their knees and the young Azura sat on Aclima's lap.

What Aziraphale hadn't expected was the little baby boy in the arms of Adam and Eve.

"Guess the whole stress of their son killing their other son and then being cursed by God made her go into early labor. Luckily, she was about to have the baby anyway so, guess it just sped it up." Aziraphale jumped and turned to the voice of none other than Crawly.

"I assume _you_ have something to do with this?" The disdain Aziraphale held in his eyes and voice made Crawly's stomach drop.

"Well, uh..." _I didn't mean to make Cain kill anyone! I tried to persuade him to talk it out! He chose to kill Abel, he chose- I can't help-_

"Nah. Ironically, though, was sent here to make Cain kill his parents. Guess the Ineffable Plan was one step ahead of me." The guilt gnawed at him. Aziraphale looked up at him and his anger was wiped off his face.

"Bad timing, I suppose." _I'm supposed to be a Good Angel. How could I let this happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Besides Cain and Able, had a few more siblings - the only one named in the texts was Seth. Their kids were, in this order: Cain & Aclima (twins), Abel, Awan, Azura, and Seth.[return to text]  
> 2God did this a few years after the birth of Abel, so the humans may reproduce without any unethical methods.[return to text]  
> 3After working in the fields his entire life, it only made sense he would be. Cain was around 6'3 and 190 pounds, though, Abel was naturally taller- at 6'5 but only 160 pounds.[return to text]
> 
> hope you enjoyed this so far! thank you for reading <3  
> dearest-asmodeus on tumblr


	2. Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: near child death, referenced rape, minor character assassination.

_"Children? You can't kill children!"_ Crawly's words echoed in Aziraphale's head.

Aziraphale had been smart these past years, he kept his head down and did the assignments he was given. He did them as well as he could possibly do and still, even at times, it wasn't _enough_ for Heaven-

Nonetheless, Aziraphale wasn't one for getting yelled at or roughed up, a few remarks from Gabriel was better- _That's selfish, it's about me being a better Angel, not escaping punishment._

He had been smart so far. He _knew better._

Yet, here he was, wings tired and soaked in rainwater from attempting to move the raft by making gusts of wind. He was so close, it's not like Heaven will find out and- and he's not doing anything _bad_ -

As the storm raged on, he had noticed a small raft of children. It seemed to be school children who had been in the middle of their lessons when the storm hit. They were crying out and- they were so, so close to the ark.

Aziraphale not only felt inclined to help them but obligated to-was he not meant to help God's Children? And yet, his corporation (wings and all) seemed to fail against God's Punishment.

He could not leave these children but he simply didn't have the strength to carry multitudes of children with water-heavy wings and violent storm all fighting against him-

That's when he noticed the peak of red-hair from under a black hood, who seemed to be carrying children into the lower decks of the ark.

"Crawly!" He cried out into the raging storm. The demon looked over the edge and flew down.

" _What_ are you doing?" He growled. "I thought this was apart of the _Plan_. You look nearly discorporated."

"I'm sorry-I just- I couldn't leave them, they were so close and- too many of them to carry and was too scared to leave them so I-" Crawly shushed him.

"It's-it's fine, angel." He calmed down the exhausted Aziraphale. "I'll carry them up, okay?" Crawly grabbed an armful and put them on the deck before swiftly going down and grabbing more armfuls until he went to grab the last two children and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was lifting one up and holding the other close, Crawly grabbed them both and was about to grab Aziraphale before-

Crawly instinctively bolted up when he saw the tidal wave come crashing towards them. He had tried to grab Aziraphale but it seemed determined to take Aziraphale down with the raft.

"Aziraphale!" He cried out. He looked onto the flood and flew onto the deck, guiding the children into the lower decks. _Why does everything I do end up in something awful happening?_

* * *

Aziraphale gasped, eyes snapped shut. His arms began to flail and his legs knocked into a calf-

He opened his eyes and realized he was in Heaven, with a very disappointed Gabriel staring down at him.

"I think it's best we have a _chat_ , Aziraphale." At that moment, Aziraphale thought that the clouds had never been so dark nor the thunder so loud.

* * *

When they walked into Gabriel's office, the door was shut and locked.

"Of all the things to do, you try to go against _God's word_?" Gabriel sat down, staring incredulously at Aziraphale.

"Gabriel, they were kids, they didn't have a choice in whether or not they got on the ark..." Gabriel slammed his fists down.

"Then it would have been their parent's fault and it would go against them when they face their judgment of God, all of those kids were going to Heaven anyway."

"I...I was not told this. Even so, they deserve to live a full-"

"How do you learn new information and still stick to your ground? How can you just ignore what I-no, what _God_ says?! Still, you shouldn't have tried to do that in the first place, you know better!" He growled, getting up to grab Aziraphale by the collar.

"Do you not remember what was decided for you?" Aziraphale nodded and gulped.

" _What?_ " Gabriel spat out.

"If...if I am to get myself in severe trouble again, I am to be called by up to Heaven and to be..." His voice shook. "...thoroughly punished for my disobedience, as well as demoted." Gabriel glared at him before his fingers that were gripped onto Aziraphale's collar began to rub the cloth.

He seemed to be looking at Aziraphale in a physical sense, but mentally, it seemed that something went off in Gabriel's mind.

"I believe we can avoid this...punishment, as long as the other Archangels don't hear about it." The way Gabriel was looking at him made him gulp.

"How-how would that be?" Gabriel smiled before-

_It's for the better we leave it there._

* * *

Gabriel was already back in his clothes when he snapped his fingers, allowing Aziraphale to put his clothes back on.

"Now- you know you can't tell the others that, right?" Aziraphale nodded, mutely. Aziraphale had seen a lot, and he was no idiot- what he wanted to say was, _Was that not rape? One of the most deplorable acts of all time?_

...but he didn't. Aziraphale breathed in and said to his conscious that _This is Archangel Gabriel- he knows best._

"Well, I'll see you soon." Gabriel held the door open and watched Aziraphale walk out the door.

"Oh, and Aziraphale?" He looked back. "Lay off the gross matter, it's unfit for an Angel to be so soft." He flinched as the door slammed shut. When he returned to Earth, he found that Noah had landed the Ark and everyone was getting along alright.

He sat down and watched the flood water brush against his feet, doing all he could to not lose himself in his own mind.

* * *

Crawly had watched Julius Caesar's little parade in disdain, the people of Rome gathered around as they talked among themselves and stared at the triumphant Caesar. He waved and talked to the guards beside him.

Crawly scoffed at the display, something that if anyone else had done the Roman people would _not_ have appreciated in the slightest. Crawly did not trust Caesar in the slightest nor did he feel like the people of Rome should either- they needed to get him out _now_ , he was already cocky enough as is.

That night, in came a Gaius Cassius Longinus. Crawly, due to his line of work, obviously had political standing and with that, he was not unfamiliar with Cassius.

" _Draco [1]_, what brings a man such as yourself here?" Cassius spoke softly. Crawly shrugged.

"I am merely wandering, Cassius." He stood beside the man, adjusting his robe. He held back a flick of his serpentine tongue to speak. "Something seems to be on your mind. What could weigh so heavily on you it could be apparent to just anyone?"

"Do not speak bad of yourself, we both know you hold quite a bit of unmatched intellectualism." He sighed and looked down. "Draco, how well can one trust another? How can a single soul be sure of another's motives, or their incentive?" He glared at Crawly, beckoning him to follow.

They were only a few meters away, though this alleyway was vacant of any person to hear the ensuing conversation.

"I must know you will not pass on this information- I _must_ -" Crawly nodded.

"I am many things, but a dishonest man who profits off the secrets of others is not one." Cassius looked at him and looked to their left, to check for any witnesses.

"I am unsure of the trust of the people as well as the Senate that has been put into the self-proclaimed dictator of ours." He side-eyed his left once again. Crawly's eyes widened behind his glasses before he spoke again.

"I'm all ears."

* * *

Contrary to many interpretations, Brutus wasn't a nervous young man who was persuaded by his manipulative brother-in-law Cassius nor was he a stronger yet disloyal man who barely needed to hear a word of Cassius's mouth to join him.

Rather, he was a middle-aged man who was loyal to his country of Rome first and foremost, and when an educated someone close to him gives convincing evidence that the man he had supported for so long could possibly bring the downfall of his beloved home...no matter his hesitation, he felt a need to follow through any plan that will save Rome.

One interpretation Crawly would become _very_ familiar with in the coming millennia was that of _Dante's Inferno_ 's Satan, a monster of three heads- holding three people. Two of which would be prevalent in this story, and while Satan was no beast of three heads, there was something to be said about just _how_ Dante came up with the idea that Cassius and Brutus were in some of the deepest levels of Hell.

One of 23, Crawly assumed this would be better for the humans and possibly something he could put the success of this assassination in his next report.

In the minutes that passed, there were many things said by Caesar- though the conspirators remained silent. Afterward, everything felt off- Crawly knew there was blood on him, could feel it on his hands, but when he washed it off ( _miracling it off didn't feel right._ ) it just...it just felt like it was water or wine or- or something that wasn't so incriminating.

It was just a means to an end, right? He's doing something good- just because he's from Hell doesn't mean his actions are _evil_ by default.

* * *

Being run out of Rome hadn't quite been what he was expecting, but somehow, it made perfect sense. _Of course, people love him, what did you expect?_

Many of his fellow conspirators were publicly ostracized and died not very long after. Two of which were Cassius and Brutus- and of how they died, he heard straight from the horses' mouth-well, rather more like the from their torture pit.

Whenever he did return to Rome, he quickly discovered that no matter how _weird_ his eyes may have seemed once, they were now _hated_ by the Roman people- so...he got shades.

* * *

"Demon Crawly," Satan spoke from his throne, at his sides were the 7 Princes of Hell. "Welcome! We have gathered you today to bestow upon you an honor- due to your assassination of Julius Caesar, dictator and consul of Rome, we have not only gained a _very_ powerful soul but our predictions say the Roman Empire should collapse before the halfway point of the next millennia. You have done a _terrible_ job." He grinned once more before he stood up.

"As such, we have decided to bestow upon you a choice- you may ask for a single great favor of any of us." He stretched his arms and stood there. "You may take your t-"

"I would like to change my name." Silence followed.

"...What?" Satan laughed.

"I would like to change my name, Lord. I feel that my current name is too..." _wicked, evil..._ "...slithering at your feet-ish. I ask for a name change." Satan sighed and nodded.

"All rise!" The Princes all stood. "Henceforth, all denizens of Hell shall refer to the demon previously known as Crawly as..." A pause.

" _Crowley_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Draco- also meaning "serpent" or "dragon."[return to text]  
> there's gonna be a ~1400 year time skip next chapter so get ready for that lol
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! thank you for reading <3  
> dearest-asmodeus on tumblr


	3. Pestilence (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: somewhat(?) graphic description of the black death/sickness, vomiting/blood/etc, accidental non-fatal starvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres going to be two or three parts of this saga, depends on how much I get written for aziraphale and crowley's separate adventures.

Aziraphale comforted the dying mother deliriously calling out for her children as blood and infection spewed out of her mouth from where it had filled up her lungs- the Black Death had hit Europe and Aziraphale-

"Char- Char-" She hacked as Aziraphale put a cloth up to her mouth, his hands shivering. As the millenniums went by, Aziraphale's corporation became accustomed to food consumption and while he wouldn't' starve, his body felt like _hell_.

Intense stress and exhaustion weighed down on him as well, due to him "healing" the ill across all Europe. He felt frail and weak.

The bile in her body strangled her even as Aziraphale put her in an upright position, and she simply fell down- lifeless and already rotting.

_Onto the next home._

* * *

The next family Aziraphale went to offered him a loaf of bread as payment- and even though his body screamed for him to take it, he shook his head, but they _insisted_.

As he hunkered down in the next home, he grabbed a slice and ate it- he would've _liked_ to say he felt rejuvenated but rather... it cleared a bit of the fog in his mind.

At that moment, as the child fell asleep, he looked in the mirror and realized how ghastly he looked.

His eyes were dull, his hair thin, and his skin so much paler than it had ever been- he figured out that it hadn't been _only_ the lack of food that had caused this, but the tortuous 2 years he had been enduring.

He got another half slice and ate it, keeping the other half for the child, and felt his senses clear a bit more.

* * *

When Gabriel came to visit, Aziraphale had been dealing with one of his worst patients, who not only had the septicemic variant of the plague but as well, prior to this, had suffered many illnesses throughout their life.

Aziraphale had been covered in blood, as the patient had accidentally cut themself on the hinges of their bed, and knocked themself out in their tossing and turning.

"I see this is going..." Gabriel held his nose and averted his eyes. "... _wonderful_." Aziraphale sighed.

"I suppose this must look bad- they are not always this bad, I assure you..." He looked at his sleeping patient then at Gabriel.

"With...with all of this, it seems miracles would be useful- though I understand that...there would be too many and hard to track- and as well, I cannot miracle someone back to life or cure them of an illness I do not yet understand..." _And I'm so physically and mentally weak anyways that any miracle I preform would be either be minuscule or catastrophic_.

"Good. You get it." Gabriel grinned. "I know you can't leave the room but...are they going to understand us?" Aziraphale shook his head. "Good, good. Well, it seems that we have good news and bad news- Good news, you get to leave Habsburg! Bad news, you're heading down to Florence, Italy." Aziraphale perked up.

"Florence- as in-" Gabriel nodded and handed him papers. "Next month? I-" He looked up at Gabriel and held back any defiant words that almost left his mouth. He nodded his head as Gabriel looked behind him at his patient, before stepping in closer.

The light of the flickering flames of the candles perched onto the desks and drawers near them illuminated Gabriel's face in such a comforting yet threatening way.

He caressed Aziraphale's thin and frail face, smiling.

"You're much better this way- you're starting to look like a real Angel once more." He smiled as he gripped harder. "Only thing is...you're so weak, so frail- You're on the right path. Just don't be so _weak_." And like the flicker of a candle's flame, Gabriel was once more- leaving behind the melting wax of Aziraphale.

* * *

As Crowley stepped through the streets of Messina, Sicily, he watched the vacant and empty- besides the _corpses_ \- roads for any signs to reassure him that this wasn't a ghost town.

An answer came to him as a strangled moan came from one of the houses and once again, Crowley reflected on how this began.

He had become quite familiar with the Mongol Empire and its large (and many) settlements, especially considering how Crowley had been a resident of central Russia for a number of years.

One of its many groups had been the Golden Horde, who happened to occupy Russia.

Of course, he should've known it was too good to last, because, in 1346, a letter from Hell appeared on his desk.

* * *

The letter said Crowley was to meet with a " _person_ " traveling with the Golden Horde, they would be waiting outside a yurt and would give further instructions.

After noticing someone, he almost walked away, thinking it was a human- until he suddenly noticed the supernatural aura rolling off of them. He stopped in his tracks and turned towards them.

"Sorry, did I scare ya?" A scratchy and low voice said, looking at him with black eyes. They extended a hand. "Pestilence."

"Crowley..." He looked at his hand to make sure there was a glove on it before hesitantly shaking their exposed hand. "...nice to meet you. Nah, just surprised me." Pestilence nodded while saying _good, good_.

"Now, this is a mission from _Hell_ , and I'm pretty sure you Horsepeople aren't supposed to be working with Heaven _or_ Hell. What's this about?" Crowley couldn't help letting out a snide remark.

" _Pretty sure_ \- not _certain_. And I'll have you know we're free to do as we please as long as we're doing our job and not, y'know, ending civilization _just_ yet." He nodded and stood beside them, against the yurt. They shook their head and guided him inside.

They sat down as Pestilence prepared them something to drink- tea, as it were, though this was compressed black tea bricks boiled in milk. They walked over and handed Crowley his cup. 

"Thanks." He looked into his cup. "Isn't this horse milk?" They shook their head.

"I think you're thinking of Kumis, which is alcoholic, and it is not even _noon_." He looked at them. "Yes, it's hypocritical of me, but I like the sickness of others, not _myself_."

"Well, what's going on? They said you were supposed to give me instructions." He pulled out the letter and waved it. They took a sip of their tea before setting it down.

"Ah, yes, my little project." They grinned. "See, as you know, the Mongol Empire is extensive, reaching across Asia and Europe. In 1266, the Kahn allowed Genoa to establish a port city down in Crimea, _Kaffa [1]_. Even so, there were tensions between the two parties."

"After some escalation, Toqtai Khan arrested Sarai's Italian residents and besieged Kaffa- the Genoa resisted for a while before burning Kaffa and abandoning it. Blah, blah, after Toqtai died Özbeg Khan took over and welcomed the Genoese back in." Crowley stopped them.

"Oh, yes, Kaffa. I know that place, 'was there for a while- it actually was how I got here." He pointed to the ground. "It was expanded into _Tana [2]_, right?" They nodded.

"Remember how Özbeg died back in 1340? Well, tensions were rising again and Janibeg Khan besieged Kaffa back in '43 until '44, then again in '45 when a _plague_ wrecked their forces." They smiled to themselves as they quit speaking.

"Guessing you got War to help you with all that diplomatic stuff?" They nodded. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, now that you've given plenty of exposition, what am I here for?" They clapped their hands together and began to speak again.

"Well, the plague has lessened some but only so the next part of my plan can start! War has headed off once more to deal with something she started and plans to last for _a hundred years [3]_ ." They rolled their eyes. "All you have to do is help me spread this disease to Kaffa's citizens during their next besiege."

"Which would be...?" They grinned.

"Next month!"

* * *

Crowley slithered onto a trading ship heading from Kaffa, Crimea to Constantinople. Pestilence had given him the task to help it spread into Europe, and after the besiege, Crowley only hoped this would be a tame plague.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Known as Feodosia, Crimea now.[return to text]  
> 2Known as Azov, Russia now.[return to text]  
> 3In case you couldn't tell, that would be the Hundred Year War.[return to text]  
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! thank you for reading <3  
> dearest-asmodeus on tumblr


	4. Pestilence (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic descriptions of illness/infection, minor vomit, depictions of the effects of non-fatal malnourishment, vaguely referenced rape, referenced eating disorder/restriction

Florence was as lovely as it had been last time Aziraphale had visited it...if you ignored the corpses on the streets, that is. He felt himself become nauseous but, unfortunately, had given away any food he was gifted before he left Habsburg.

As he stepped out closer, the rotten smell filled his senses and he almost didn't notice it.

* * *

Once he found his first home, the family allowed him in, hesitantly. As he treated these patients, it seemed that they had run into some awful doctors- her right leg, where the original infection started, had been cut off, _poorly_.

Moreover, the wound was barely treated with anything and the open cut seemed to have an infection- red-rimmed and there was pus beginning to come out-speeding up the victim's demise.

"Rotten food- do you, perhaps, have any rotten food? Mold[1]?" Aziraphale panted as he ran downstairs. The man looked up and nodded, grabbing what was likely about to be thrown out. "Thank you." He grabbed the batch of old pears and ran back.

"Please, dear girl, please- you have to eat this," She shook her head, flopping onto her pillow.

"I know it looks bad, I know- but it should help you- I suppose? It'll rid you of the nastiness inside you, I promise." He begged and begged, unable to actually force her to eat it and when she did, she threw it back up.

She died that night. Her cousin shook her head at him and just said...

"It was no use." She sent him away for the evening, saying he looked ill himself.

* * *

As Aziraphale hobbled into the house he stationed himself in, he tried to remember what had happened.

_He had been heading home- yes, yes, he had finished up his last job and decided to go home so he could write a report as Gabriel requested. He had been given another loaf of bread and- and something else?_

Oh, bugger, it doesn't even matter- _he had food on him, and in his partially starved and frail state he assumed he must've been a perfect target._

_The man had grabbed him, held him against a wall, and Aziraphale's flailed his hands at the man, in vain. His brittle nails scratched the man before chipping off, as he tried to immobilize him._

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I_ need _this, my family is dying- dying! You understand, don't you understand, good doctor? Please, please-" He breathed in a shaky breath._

 _"Please, please,_ God _, forgive me!" He cried as he let go of Aziraphale, running away with the food._

_Suddenly, Aziraphale realized just how weak he was and he hit the ground and everything went dark._

Yes, yes, he had fainted and awoken and now he was home- and he had to write that _blasted report!_

He sat down at his little desk, realizing the blood was still dripping out his nose. He grabbed a handkerchief and held it up to his nose as the blood flooded out his nose[2]. His hand shook as he tried to grab his quill and felt his muscle strain.

He dropped the ink and felt himself shake and shake more. The haze clouded his mind as he felt himself go limp, somewhere between numb and in excruciating pain.

* * *

When he awoke, there was a doctor with him.

"I-I heard a crash, sir, and he was- oh god-" The woman, wrapped up in clothes, cried. The doctor nodded and sent her off, saying she'd better go before she got sick too.

"You're a lucky man, sir. Had she not found you, God only knows what could have possibly happened to you." The doctor shook his head. "We've got to watch you now, ya hear? We can't be sure if it was the starvation or the Plague that's got you now, son." He shook his head, chuckling at the use of _son_.

"Get some sleep, now." He put a covered hand over his eyes, closing them. "You need it." The world went dark once more, but now, it was much more peaceful.

* * *

Gabriel clapped his hands, startling Aziraphale awake.

"Hey there, sunshine." He grinned. "You've been lacking these past few days, and I've been _worried_ , sunshine!" The emphasis on _worried_ showed just how little he had actually been worried compared to how annoyed he had been at his lack of reports.

"What happened?" He pouted at Aziraphale. Aziraphale blinked at him.

"I...I was attacked and severely injured. I suppose I passed out." Gabriel cocked an eyebrow.

"Why were you attacked?" Another blink.

"I..." He looked at Gabriel. His brain told him to _keep it shut_. "I had a family give me food- I was going to most likely give it away- but the man...the man saw me. And he said his family was starving so I..."

"You let a starving man beat you?" He laughed. "You're an Angel, sunshine." He cackled. Aziraphale gulped.

"Will...will I be punished?" He spoke, stiff as if perhaps if he were a statue. Gabriel shook his head.

"Nope, seeing as I already took care of your share of the deal when you were unconscious." Aziraphale suddenly remembered waking up, still weak, to Gabriel... _doing something_. He laid there paralyzed as he drifted off again.

"Of...of course." He licked his chapped lips. "Thank you, Gabriel. You are so merciful." He wasn't sure the words coming out of him were even his own.

* * *

Aziraphale poured the bucket of water over himself, after finding a nearby well with...clean- _ish_ water. He used a cloth to scrub off the grime and filth, but it didn't feel quite enough.

Whenever he thought about Gabriel he could feel his hands- _on his thighs, shoulders, arms, face, everywhere, **everywhere**_ \- so he tried to clear his mind. He had tried to fall back asleep, for every time he did, he would wake up panting in fear that Gabriel had returned. He felt vulnerable.

He was a principality, he shouldn't feel vulnerable- especially not around superiors, that implies fear, and he should never fear them- Gabriel was doing the right thing. _Gabriel was doing the right thing._

He dried himself off and got to work with the report he missed before noticing a knock on his door.

"Sir? I've bought you some food! You're going to need to get better." The doctor said through the door. He walked over and took the basket of (albeit, very few) market foods. He smiled.

"Thank you so much, dear boy." He smiled weakly. The doctor said he would be back for updates before walking away. When the door shut, Aziraphale rushed back to his desk and sat the basket beside him.

* * *

As the sky darkened and the minimal sounds of any sort of bustle outside the door came to an absolute _stop_ , Aziraphale finished up his report, sending it up to Heaven.

He felt himself shake and look at the basket.

He looked a bread slice and was considering reach down for it before coming to a realization- he _wasn't hungry_. Not famished or even peckish- well, not how he usually was. Usually, he could eat anything- he had cravings and urges- now?

Sure, he was hungry in the sense he felt weak and felt a bit of a church of hunger in his stomach, but it...it was more like a mild headache. Annoying but nonetheless could easily be ignored- the kicker was...he _liked_ it.

He liked feeling that emptiness, he liked the feeling of weakness, the minuscule hunger inside him was _addicting._

He wanted to feel this way forever- _forever_ \- he wanted to look at food and scoff while his stomach groaned in satisfactory emptiness- proving he wasn't eating, that he had self-control, he was in control of himself. For Heaven- for Heaven- he could finally measure up.

He was in control of himself- it was intoxicating, this revelation that he wasn't craving anything and all the hunger he did feel was merely a reminder he was doing _good_.

He looked at the basket again and smiled when he realized the thought of eating made him _ill_.

He liked that- maybe he liked that a bit _too_ much. It just felt _intoxicating_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Thank you, CandyQueenAO3 for saying that in Saltwater on Skin, otherwise I would've never known that.[return to text]  
> 2Malnourishment makes it harder to heal from an illness or injury, making it also harder to stop blood flow from a wound.[return to text]
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! thank you for reading <3  
> dearest-asmodeus on tumblr


	5. Pestilence (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: self-harm (wing pulling and clawing/cutting), blood/violence, implied dissociation, drinking to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter. ive been kinda unmotivated and i wasn't sure how to write this.

Crowley shut himself into the house, ignoring the knocks on his door- were they doctors, or concerned neighbors, or even Hell themself? Oh, it's not as if it even mattered, if they want in bad enough, they'll come in.

Crowley found himself unable to function, as it were. If he were left to his own devices for even just a moment, he would zone-out. At least, that's how he can describe it, unable to find more accurate words.

His vision would alter and he'd stare off into space. Everything would feel- feel off. Like something wasn't- _fuck, are there any words to describe this?_

He put his hand on his face, the coldness of his fingers barely managing to snap him out of it. He walked through the house, failing to do much.

So, he drank.

He grabbed some rum that had traded all sweet taste for alcohol content, but he wasn't drinking to enjoy himself, so what did it matter? He attempted to down it but found that he'd been a bit spoiled by all these sweet alcohols, so he set it down for later.

* * *

As the alcohol set it, he also discovered, that his tolerance had been up due to the abundance of wines he drank- though, he did ponder how 5 bottles of wine could equal half a bottle of this shit.

He almost went back for more but decided not to, remembering the lack of... _anything_ at markets and pubs alike.

* * *

As the clock ticked, Crowley stayed still. Lost in himself.

He grabbed onto the sofa he was sitting on, grabbing at it. It felt weird, _felt off, felt wrong-_

He shot up from his seat and wandered around the house, but he wasn't quite sure when he decided to do that, felt more like his body was on auto-pilot. It almost felt like he was floating.

 _Everything felt strange, it's not right, something's not right._ He grabbed the rum and held it. _This isn't right. This isn't real, it's not- wrong_. He dropped the rum and watched it spill all over the floor.

It's as if he were watching a show, but in actuality, the T.V was a little see-through box with people inside of it and even though it was all real, he didn't consider it that. Though, Crowley hasn't figured out that yet.

He walked away from it, immediately disregarding whatever he had left on the floor- _what was that again?_

* * *

Crowley walked into the bathroom, where a mirror was next to...bucket? _Yes, right, humans use buckets for their waste_. He found himself struck down by the reflection he saw.

No, that's not- That doesn't feel right. It's him, right?

He leaned towards the mirror, he touched his face in disbelief. Doesn't he wear glasses? Where are they?

 _Not right. That's not me. That can't be me..._ He stared harder. _What is it about that reflection? It isn't right, that's not me, it doesn't feel like me!_

He growled and smashed his fist against the mirror. It broke as he saw blood drip down from where his fist collided with the mirror. He took his hand back and noticed a winced as he realized there was some pain before promptly forgetting it. He looked at the glass shards and snapped his fingers, all of them now back in the unbroken mirror.

Everything still feels _wrong_. He wasn't quite sure what he was thinking, but he took out his wings and grabbed at them.

_What's happening? Why is everything off, why can't I snap out this time?_

He sat on the floor as he began to pull at his wings, barely even wincing at the pain of his feathers begin pulled out. He only stopped to look at his clean hand, now covered in blood.

He clawed at his arms, causing somewhat deep cuts to appear. Crowley smiled crookedly.

He liked this- he just wanted to feel something, he needed to feel something- did this do it? He wasn't quite sure...but it felt good- it felt satisfying.

* * *

He felt the pain begin to increase itself over the course of an hour before he blinked.

He looked at his arms and wings and jumped up from the floor.

"Fuck, fuck, what was I doing? What was I thinking?" He snapped his fingers, causing both his arms and wings to heal. _Why do I almost regret doing that?_

As he stepped forward, deciding just to sleep this off, he heard the crunch of glass under his shoe.

He groaned, vaguely remembering dropping it. He snapped his fingers again and the floor was cleaned.

He opened the bedroom door and looked at himself in the vanity for a moment before miracling all the flames of the candles to be blown out.

As Crowley forced himself into sleep, he couldn't help but feel an itch to bleed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i do dissociate but i rlly struggled writing that? i shld note that, in my experience, there can be panicked thoughts like "none of this is real!!" but there is also kinda like. subconscious feelings so not everything is thought out, it can just feel unreal without ever really thinking it.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> dearest-asmodeus on tumblr!


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